"Rawn, Melanie - Dragon Star 2 - Dragon Token" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

"Could so! And beat you at it, too!"

"You could try!"

Idalian held his breath, ready to separate the boys if it came to physical blows. But Tirel then proved himself a master strategist, even at his tender age, by shrugging carelessly.

"If you're scared that I'll learn better than you and win too fast, then—"

"Scared of you?" Natham snorted and plucked all the faradhi pieces from the board."This is how you play real chess—without these stupid Sunrunners messing things

up!"

Idalian didn't dare ask what replaced them.

Natham grabbed up the central figure from Tirel's side of the board. "And you can't play with a High Prince from now on because Rohan is dead!"

"No!" Idalian snarled.

Instantly the boy dropped all the pieces onto the quilt and jumped to his feet. "Don't tell!" he demanded in a voice that tried to threaten even as it shook. "You can't tell I said that!"

Tearing his gaze from the gutted board, Idalian picked up two of the discarded pieces: Tirel's High Prince and a Sunrunner wearing a green dress.

"Swear you won't say anything!" Natham ordered. "Or I'll—"

Glancing up, Idalian asked quietly, "And who is there for us to tell, who doesn't already know it?"

Natham flushed crimson all over his plump face. "Just—just don't say you heard from me, that's all." He fled.

"Idalian. . . ."

"Hush up!" he hissed, and Tirel cringed.

"But what are we going to—"

"I said to hush!" Rising, he went into his own chamber next to the prince's, and stood at the windows staring blindly at the snow.

It wasn't until that sleepless midnight that he wondered how, lacking a Sunrunner, Yarin could know that Rohan was dead.

*

It was midnight, and the ritual was over. Rialt choked down some wine, turning his face from the plate of food his wife brought him in the banqueting hall. Mevita hesitated, as if about to coax him to eat, but then thought better of it and set the plate aside.

"I know you want to leave," she murmured, her eyes warning him of the watchers all around them in the crowd. "But we can't. We must stay and listen."

He nodded numbly. Ever since Chiana had spoken words that meant Rohan was dead, he had been struggling to comprehend them. There was no Sunrunner to consult for confirmation or denial. He wanted to believe it was all a trick, that Chiana had lied for reasons of her own. But he could think of no advantage to be gained by it. Indeed, news that the High Prince was dead had created unease in most of those around him now. They spoke in low, nervous voices, all the nobles and important merchants who had been invited to participate in the ritual. He sent Mevita to circulate among them and hear what they were saying. Halian, as was his princely duty, had spoken before

the lighting of the candles. He was honestly sorry that Rohan was dead. Voice breaking once or twice, he told his personal memories—hunting, hawking, riding the green richness of Meadowlord to try out new horses. He said not a word about Rohan as a prince, only as a man. Pol's name was not mentioned once. It was Pol who occupied Rialt's thoughts as he exchanged his empty wine cup for a full one. Pol was his friend as well as his prince—and now the new High Prince, although formal acknowledgment of that would have to wait until all the princes could be assembled to confirm him. And that would have to wait until after the war. Rialt suspected Chiana had ordered Halian not to speak of Pol because any reference to him was tacit admission of his new status. To admit was to acknowledge; to acknowledge was to acquiesce. And that would not suit her plans for Rinhoel.

This subject was exercising the tongues of Halian's three illegitimate daughters, who stood nearby with pages to hold their plates for them. Rialt never could get their names straight—probably, as Mevita had pointed out, because he didn't want to. They all looked alike anyway: being very close in age and all dark-haired, brown-eyed, and snub-nosed like their father. The only way to distinguish them was that the eldest and youngest chattered constantly and the middle one never had a word to say for herself.